


The Universe Itself

by Herenya_writes



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Some Vulcans deserve to be punched in the face, Spock is in control of his emotions, T'hy'la, They aren't bonded yet but will be soon, Uhura's a boss, Vulcan Language, but not his bondmate, jim loves Spock, space boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herenya_writes/pseuds/Herenya_writes
Summary: Jim loves everything about Spock. They're set to be bonded in a month, and Jim wants it to be special, so he's decided to learn Vulcan in secret so that he can surprise his husband on their wedding day. Things do not go exactly as planned.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 53
Kudos: 382





	The Universe Itself

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little fic written in response to the Tumblr prompt "Jim learning to speak Vulcan and Spock never felt so loved". There is a lot of Vulcan in this fic, and the translations are provided in bold afterward. Normally I'd put all translations in the notes at the end, but there was too much in this fic for that to seem reasonable.
> 
> This fic was beta'd by the wonderful marlinspirkhall. All remaining mistakes are my own. Enjoy!

Jim’s eyes were starting to blur. Typically, when that happened while he was working, he replicated a strong coffee and kept slogging—the ship came before everything else, after all. But tonight he wasn’t working for the Enterprise. He looked at the letters on the screen of his PADD once more, silently sounding out the words there. His mouth felt strange around the foreign sounds, but it was a good kind of strange, like discovering a new favorite food when you had expected the dish to taste like a Klingon garbage chute. 

He shook his head. If he was comparing learning Vulcan to food and Klingons he was more exhausted than he thought. Blearily, he blinked at the chronometer on the wall across from him. 0247. He groaned lowly, his head thunking to the table as he squeezed his eyes shut. Had it really been that long? He had a shift in a few hours, and if he showed up late Spock would be suspicious and that would ruin the whole surprise.

Groaning again, Jim rose from the table, PADD in hand, and made his way to the door. He had been using an out-of-the-way conference room for his studying so that there was a lower chance of Spock walking in on him. He had even gotten Nyota to help with his pronunciation a couple of times. Now, he thought he could hold a passable conversation in Vulcan, but passable wasn’t good enough. Not for Spock. 

The hallways were thankfully empty as he stumbled back to his room. It was late enough that Spock should be sleeping by now, but he still was careful to walk as softly as he could when he passed the Vulcan’s room and slipped into his own. Once inside, he barely took the time to kick off his boots and strip down to his underwear before collapsing face-first on the bed. He rolled onto his side and pulled the covers up, one leg still sticking out, and fell asleep within a minute. His last thought as he drifted off was that all his studying would be worth it to see Spock’s face next month.

. . .

Spock could not sleep. This in and of itself was not terribly unusual, although it was inconvenient. He often found it difficult to slow his mind enough to achieve restful sleep and thus spent most of his nights in deep meditation instead. Tonight, however, it was not simply his active mind that kept him from his rest. No, it was a vague sense of worry, drifting at the edge of his consciousness, bleeding into every thought. 

It had begun several weeks ago. He could not say precisely when, but he could name the moment he became aware of it. Three weeks, four days, thirteen hours and thirty-one minutes ago. He and Jim had been at lunch. It had been a slow day aboard the Enterprise, for which he had been grateful at the time, as it had allowed him to devote a greater percentage of his attention to his captain. 

A mere week prior, Jim had strode into his room in the middle of the night and declared that he wanted to bond with Spock on Vulcan as soon as possible. They had been dating for several months, and Spock had made him aware of the t’hy’la bond between them some time ago, but he had not anticipated that Jim would desire to tie himself to him in the manner of his people. And yet he had, and the date had been set. They would return to Vulcan in two months.

He and Jim had been discussing the changes that needed to be made to the crew roster the next time they stopped at a Starbase over their meal when Nyota had joined them at the table, taking a seat next to Spock as she often did. She had smiled at Spock and Jim both before turning to face Jim fully and asking, “Was that book any help, Captain? If not, there are a few others I can—”

“No, no, it was more than helpful,” Jim had responded quickly, and Spock had felt a flash of fear over their t’hy’la bond before Jim quickly closed off his end of the connection. “How was the linguistics club meeting last night?” It had been obvious then that Jim was attempting to change the subject, and Nyota had frowned slightly before her eyes widened in an expression of realization and answered that the club had been productive and launched into a retelling of a young ensign’s triumph over Tellarite vowels. 

That was when Spock became aware of the worry that plagued his mind. He trusted Jim with his life and his heart, but the man was hiding something from him, a fact which he became more certain of with every passing day. Jim and Nyota had met a number of times over the past few weeks at odd hours, and while Spock was certain that neither Jim nor Nyota would do anything to jeopardize the relationship he and Jim shared, there was  _ something _ going on. Something Jim refused to speak about. And that was what worried Spock.

He knew that whatever it was likely held little import in the grand scheme of things, but the knowledge that Jim would hide something from him hurt and cast doubt on other aspects of their relationship. If Jim could not trust him with something so small, how would he know if the man trusted him with something as large as his heart and his life and his love? Jim had seemed certain when he had declared that he wanted to be bound to Spock, but was it possible that the man was having second thoughts? If so, would he tell Spock, or would he simply ‘put on a brave face’ as he so often did and go through with the bonding?

Had Spock been human, he might have sighed. Similar thoughts had kept him from sleep for the last four days, and if it continued much longer it would impact his efficiency. So, difficult as it was, he forced his mind to slow and shoved such thoughts back into the darkness to be reexamined at a later time. He finally drifted off to sleep an hour later, a mere two hours before he would need to wake for his next shift.

. . .

There was something wrong. Jim wasn’t sure what, exactly, but he could feel the tension in the air of the bridge. He glanced over to Spock, expecting to see the Vulcan looking back at him, but his attention seemed fully focused on the scanner in front of him despite the fact that they had been traveling through mostly empty space for the past two days. 

_ ‘Spock?’ _ He sent over their bond.  _ ‘Is something wrong?’ _

The Vulcan still did not turn to him, and Jim frowned. Had he done something to offend his gorgeous partner? He knew he had missed a chess game two days ago, but he had already apologized for that. His frown deepened and he cast his mind back, trying to find a reason why Spock would be giving him the cold shoulder. He was about to give up and turn his attention back to the report he had been reading a few minutes ago when he felt Spock reply.

_ ‘The ship is performing at optimal efficiency and crew morale is high. There is nothing to indicate that a problem exists, although it would be wise to contact Chief Engineer Scott if you are concerned, Captain.’ _

Jim very nearly sighed aloud.  _ ‘That’s not what I meant, Spock and you—’  _ His thoughts were cut off by Uhura calling his attention.

“Captain, I just received a transmission from Starfleet. We are to divert course to Beta Sigma III to collect an Ambassador there and then continue our course to Starbase Twelve where we will drop him off,” she reported.

This time, Jim did sigh. “One day, the brass is going to realize that the Enterprise is an exploratory vessel, not a transport ship,” he grumbled under his breath. “Alright then. Mr. Chekov, plot a course for Beta Sigma III, Mr. Sulu, increase warp factor by one. I don’t want to lose any more time than we have to for this detour.”

“Course set, Keptin.”

“We’ll arrive at Beta Sigma III in two hours, Captain,” Sulu reported. “Assuming the stop doesn’t take more than an hour, we should reach the starbase around 0900 ship’s time in two days, as originally planned.”

“Good. Lieutenant Uhura, send any relevant data on the ambassador we’re shuttling to both mine and Mr. Spock’s personal PADDs. Sulu, you have the conn.”

A chorus of ‘yes, sir’s met his words as he stood and strode to the turbo-lift, Spock falling in step beside him wordlessly. When the lift doors closed, he gave the deck number and then turned to Spock, who stood in a perfect parade rest at his side. 

“I wasn’t talking about the ship and you know it,” he said quietly as soon as the lift began to move, eyes roving over Spock’s face in search of some hint of what was going on in the Vulcan’s mind. It was a mask of perfect calm.

“Perhaps it would be best to turn our attention to the ambassador, Captain,” Spock suggested cooly, his gaze fixed on the wall of the turbolift. “Personal matters can wait.” 

Jim’s instinct was to ignore that suggestion and demand that they talk about whatever it was that was going on between them right here and right now, but he didn’t. If this were a problem with the ship or something else related to his duties as a captain he wouldn’t hesitate, but this wasn’t. This was about him and Spock, not Captain and Commander. He wasn’t going to order his soon-to-be-bondmate to do anything in their relationship, much less talk to him while ignoring their duty to their ship.

“Alright, Spock.” He placed a hand on Spock’s arm, and he felt the Vulcan relax ever-so-slightly at the touch. “But I do want to talk about it. Over chess tonight?”

Spock turned his gaze from the wall to look over at Jim. His eyes were dark and guarded in a way that Jim hadn’t seen from him in months, but there was still affection there, and some of the anxiety in Jim’s chest uncurled. 

“I believe it would be appropriate for a formal dinner to be held for the ambassador tonight, but if you still desire to speak afterward I have no objections,” he replied as the turbolift door opened and they stepped through. 

“It’s a date.” Jim grinned, and he saw the barest hint of a smile on Spock’s lips as well. Whatever was wrong, he was certain they could figure it out. After all, he would move universes if Spock asked him to just for a chance to see that sparkle in his eyes.

. . .

Spock stood in parade rest, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the ensign manning the transporter to beam the ambassador aboard. He and Jim had spent the last few hours reading over the ambassador’s files and familiarizing themselves with his work on Beta Sigma III. While he would not be on the ship for long, it was logical that they learn as much about the man as they could so as to ensure an uneventful transit over the next two days. 

The ambassador was a successful man and had negotiated a number of alliances and truces on Beta Sigma III over the past 4.32 years, enabling the new colony there to thrive even in this isolated region of space. Now, however, he was being summoned to the starbase for debriefing before he would be transferred to one of the planets nearest the Neutral Zone. 

The transporter began to glow, and Spock watched dispassionately as a form began to appear on the pad. There was one other feature of note about the ambassador, he thought as the man materialized, revealing a man wearing deep emerald robes. Ambassador Stoth was a Vulcan.

As soon as the ambassador had materialized, the captain stepped forward, hand raised in a ta’al. Ambassador Stoth copied the gesture, his face betraying no hint of surprise or appreciation. “Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Ambassador,” Jim said as he lowered his hand. Typically, the man would grin at the mention of his ship, but he kept his expression calm. “I am Captain James T. Kirk, and this is my First Officer, Mr. Spock.” Spock raised his hand in greeting and nodded. “He will show you to your quarters and give you a tour of the Enterprise if you wish.”

“I am familiar with the layout of your ship, Captain,” the ambassador answered. “I can find my own way.”

Such a statement, while logical, was an affront to the captain’s attempts at hospitality, but if he was bothered by the ambassador’s words he did not show it. “Of course. Would you join me and my officers for dinner?”

“I will.”

“I look forward to your presence. We will eat at 1845 ship’s time.” 

Spock could hear the barest hint of frustration in the captain’s voice now, although he doubted that the ambassador would pick up on the subtle shift. Indeed, the ambassador simply nodded his understanding and strode past them both to the door before disappearing, presumably to locate his quarters.

As the door closed, the captain let out a sigh, his posture, which had been perfect throughout the meeting, relaxing slightly. He shot a grin at the ensign manning the transporter and said, “Thank you, Roberts.” The woman nodded in reply and took her leave of the room. 

Once she had left, the captain turned to him, a weary smile on his lips. “Well, if that’s how every interaction with the ambassador is going to be, this dinner is going to last a lifetime.”

Spock relaxed his parade rest and raised an eyebrow, recognizing his captain’s hyperbole. Still, he had to admit that the ambassador did not seem to be one for an engaging discussion. “Perhaps the ambassador is simply weary from his time on Beta Sigma III, Captain. It is a frontier planet with few amenities.”

The captain’s smile widened slightly. “Is the enjoyment of amenities logical, Mr. Spock?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye. 

“Indeed. A multitude of studies have shown that people of all species perform better when they are able to exist in a state of relative comfort, allowing for minor disruptions such as stress from outside factors.”

That earned him a chuckle. “Well, when you put it like that,” the captain laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll see you at dinner, alright, Spock?”

Spock frowned inwardly, the light atmosphere between them disappearing. He was not aware of anything that should be occupying Jim or himself for the next several hours, and the man typically desired to spend as much of their off-duty time together as they could.

“Of course, Captain. If you need me, I will be in the labs.” If his words were somewhat stiffer than he had intended them to be, Jim did not seem to notice. 

“See you in a few hours,” Jim declared, stepping past him and allowing their fingers to brush in what was not quite an ozh’esta. Then he stepped through the door and left Spock to wonder what it was that he was hiding.

. . .

Jim stepped into one of the rarely-used officer lounges, flashing a smile at its lone occupant as he took a seat on one of the small couches. “How’s Ambassador Stoth?” Uhura asked although the twinkle in her eyes told Jim she already knew the answer.

“I understand Vulcans have a very no-nonsense culture, and I respect that, but I think some of them are allergic to the idea of anything even slightly illogical,” he replied, sinking deeper into the cushions of the couch as Uhura turned toward him. “He refused to even let Spock show him to his rooms. I mean, I try to be a good host for anyone who comes aboard the ship, but when people won’t let me—” He shrugged helplessly. “I tried.”

Uhura laughed lightly. “I’m sure you did, Captain. Now, how did your studying go last night? There were some strange tenses in that last passage I gave you to translate. Did you figure them out?”

Jim sat up as he replied, and soon enough the two of them were engrossed in the Vulcan language, allowing little room for Jim to worry about the ambassador.

A few hours later, they were in the middle of a conversation in Vulcan to help Jim work on his pronunciation of words without having the time to study them beforehand when Uhura asked, “Nam-tor du dahkuh svi' wuh puk?”  **_Are the two of you in a fight?_ **

Jim blinked. This was a definite change in the subject of their conversation. “Ik?” he replied, pretending he didn’t know exactly who Uhura was talking about.  **_Who?_ **

The woman rolled her eyes at him. “Du heh Spock.”  **_You and Spock._ **

His first instinct was to say no, but he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. They weren’t fighting, not really, but there  _ was _ something wrong, and if Uhura was picking up on it, it must be more obvious than he had thought. “I don’t know,” he finally replied, switching to Standard as he sat back against the couch cushions once again. “I think he’s upset with me, but I can’t figure out why. We’re going to talk about it after the dinner tonight.”

She nodded and leaned back in her own chair. “You aren’t having second thoughts about bonding with him, are you?”

His eyes widened. “No! Of course not! If I could, I’d bond with him tonight, but I know he wants to do it the right way on Vulcan,” he replied instantly. “Do you think that’s what’s bothering him?”

Uhura’s lips pulled down into a frown. “I don’t know. You two need to talk, though. I could tell something was off on the bridge this morning.”

“We will,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Come on, we only have a few minutes before I have to leave to get ready for the dinner, and I still can’t pronounce that phrase right. I swear words were never meant to have this many apostrophes.” Uhura raised an eyebrow at his less-than-subtle subject change but repeated the word he had been struggling with and the lesson continued.

. . .

During his years aboard the Enterprise, first in his role as Chief Science Officer under Captain Pike and then under his dual roles as Science Officer and First Officer under Kirk, Spock had attended dozens of formal dinners aboard the ship. Often, he found himself engaged in discussion with whatever visitors were aboard as they tended to provide viewpoints on subjects that were not common aboard the ship, and while he did not enjoy such dinners, these discussions made them bearable. Tonight, however, was an exception.

Ambassador Stoth, as it turned out, was not one inclined to share his opinion of events that had occurred, as such opinions were already recorded in his reports which all the officers of the Enterprise had access to. Spock admitted there was logic to the ambassador’s position, but he had served long enough to know that some things simply could not be included in a report, no matter how detailed. Still, the ambassador remained silent on his affairs, leaving the captain to fill the empty air with accounts of the Enterprise’s journeyings.

Typically, the captain could make such small talk with ease and lessen the tension of any room, but his charm seemed to have little effect on the ambassador. The other officers pitched in as well, with Mr. Scott relaying his latest experiment with the warp core for several minutes and Lieutenant Uhura asking culturally relevant and engaging questions about life on Beta Sigma III. Still, the conversation remained stilted, and Spock could feel Jim’s frustration begin to leak across their fledgling bond. 

“When were you last on Vulcan, Ambassador?” Jim asked in a voice that was carefully controlled, the kind of tone that even Spock’s father would find difficult to fault for emotionalism. 

“Four years, six months, and thirteen days ago, utilizing Standard measurements,” the Ambassador responded before taking a sip of his drink, holding the stem of the glass between two slender fingers. “I stayed briefly on the planet to visit T’lar, she who is my wife.”

Spock could feel the surprise drift across their bond, and he had to keep himself from raising his own eyebrow in response. 

“Your file didn’t mention you were married. Will your wife be joining you on your next assignment?” Jim asked. The food on the captain’s plate was mostly untouched, despite the fact that Spock knew the man had not eaten since breakfast that morning.

“She will not. It would be illogical to send two people when one will suffice,” The ambassador answered, and if Spock did not know better, he would say that there was a certain hostility to the words as if the man were purposely attempting to aggravate the captain.

_ ‘Help me out here.’  _ Spock suddenly felt Jim’s voice in his mind, and he could feel the hint of desperation behind the words. Jim did not want to say anything culturally inappropriate or offensive, but he was running out of topics of discussion given the ambassador’s lackluster responses.

“Is T’lar still an instructor of applied quantum mechanics at the Science Academy, Ambassador?” Spock asked, drawing on what little knowledge he had of the woman. He had met her on three occasions, but they had never spoken for any length of time, as Spock had been attending the functions as his father’s aide. 

The ambassador’s gaze turned to Spock. “She is. Her graduate students have remained on Vulcan to continue her studies and expand the knowledge of our people.” 

Unlike him. It was not difficult to hear the scorn and distaste in the man’s words, as Spock had heard them all his life. He was, in the eyes of many, a traitor to his people for rejecting the VSA and joining Starfleet, and it seemed that this would be his legacy among Vulcans, regardless of what his other achievements in life might be. Kaiidth. He had made his choice long ago. 

Across his bond, however, he could feel Jim’s anger rise. His future bondmate, his t’hy’la, saw such words as an injustice, and while his determination was admirable it would do neither of them any good to anger the ambassador now. 

_ ‘Peace, Jim. His words are not a reflection of my character, nor are they an accurate summation of events. He is not worth your anger.’ _

At his side, Jim’s hand tightened briefly around his fork before relaxing.  _ ‘Fine, but I’m done trying to play nice. If he wants to talk, he can make his own conversation.’  _ Before Spock could reply, Jim turned to Scotty, who sat on the ambassador’s left, and struck up a conversation about the kind of upgrades that the Enterprise had made over the years and how those upgrades could and could not be applied to other Starfleet ships of a similar size.

The next half-hour passed more easily, and soon the dishes were cleared away, and a handful of the officers slipped away for a few hours of recreation before it was time for them to sleep. The captain was deep in discussion with Lieutenant Uhura, and so Spock decided to return to his quarters and wait there for him. It would be wise for him to meditate before their discussion.

He was about to step from the room when the ambassador’s voice stopped him. “Spock, du dotor tor tel-tor k' wuh khart-lan?”  **_You plan to bond with the captain?_ **

“Ha,” Spock replied tersely.  **_Yes._ ** There was hostility in the man’s eyes, and while Spock could weather any insult directed at himself, he would not allow his future bondmate to be treated with anything less than the respect that he deserved.

The ambassador tilted his head upward slightly, a calculated gesture of arrogance, meant to test the limits of Spock’s emotional control. “Ish-veh tor riolozhikaik. Au nam-tor komihn, ten do.”  **_It is illogical. He is human, lesser._ ** The Vulcan paused, tilting his head a fraction. “Hi rai vath aitlu du.”  **_But no other desires you._ **

Before Spock could reply, Jim appeared in his peripheral vision, his face a mask of false politeness that concealed a rage that Spock could feel zapping along their bond.

. . .

“Personally, I favor Strauss, but—” Jim cut himself off as his ears picked up what sounded like the tail-end of a conversation. One spoken in Vulcan between the ambassador and Spock. His eyes narrowed at the blatant hostility and he turned back to Uhura, ready to excuse himself. The woman must have overheard it as well, because she nodded without an explanation.

“Tear him to pieces, Captain,” she whispered with a sharp smile, and that was one command that Jim was more than happy to obey. 

Striding over to Spock, Jim held out two fingers for an ozh’esta, knowing that such an action, while not overly obscene, was still rare between two who had not been formally bonded. Spock met his fingers, brow raised ever so slightly, but Jim didn’t give him the chance to question his actions before he turned to the ambassador, a blindingly fake smile on his lips.

“Kevet-dutar, kuv tra' nam-tor rim vi aitlun Spock, ish-veh tor ish-veh pak,” he declared, eyes locked with the ambassador’s. “Ish-veh ozhika heh kash-to-vel ma korsau nash-veh heh t'nash-veh hali wehk wak. Yel-Halitra tor pudor-tor ki' ish-veh, u' nash-veh.”  **_Ambassador, if there are those who do not desire Spock, it is their loss. His logic and intellect have saved me and my ship many times. Starfleet is honored to have him, as am I._ **

He turned back to Spock, who was gazing at him with a mixture of exasperation and wonder in his eyes. “Come on, Spock.” He tugged gently on the Vulcan’s hand, and Spock followed him easily as they brushed past the ambassador and made their way to the turbolift down the hall. 

Spock was silent all the way to Jim’s room. As he opened the door and stepped inside to allow Spock to enter, he was hit with a flash of doubt. Had he overstepped? Spock didn’t need him to rescue him from every situation, he knew that, but he couldn’t just sit idly by while the man insulted him either. He turned back to Spock, who still stood just inside the now-closed door. 

“Listen, Spock, I’m sorry if I—”

“You have learned to speak Vulcan?”

. . .

“You have learned to speak Vulcan?” Spock asked although the question was redundant. It was obvious that Jim did indeed speak the language, and rather well too. His pronunciation had been accented, but it was far better than most he had heard from those not raised on the planet. 

Jim glanced down, running one hand through his hair as if his mastery of the language was something to be ashamed of. “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” He chuckled nervously, looking back up to meet Spock’s eyes. “Uhura’s been teaching me, and I’ve been doing some studying on my own as well.”

Spock felt a frown pull at his lips as the puzzle of Jim’s actions over the past several weeks began to connect in his mind. “Why? There is no need for you to speak the language given the wide availability of Universal Translators and the fact that all Vulcans are also taught Standard from a young age,” he stated, trying to see the logic in his t’hy’la’s decision. It was not easy to learn a language, especially given the workload Jim already carried.

The man shifted on his feet and glanced down again. “It isn’t logical, really, but I wanted to be able to say my vows in Vulcan when we get bonded next month,” he explained, still looking at the floor. “I know you said that we could have the ceremony in Standard, but it’s your planet and your tradition and I’m already an outsider—”

Before he could register giving the mental command to his limbs, Spock was moving forward, one arm snaking around Jim’s waist to pull him close and the other tilting the man’s chin up so that he could capture those brilliant lips with his own. He felt surprise jump over their bond before Jim melted into the kiss, contentment quickly taking its place. 

Eventually, Spock pulled away, allowing his joy and awe to flow freely across the bond and into his t’hy’la’s mind. “You took it upon yourself to learn the language of my people because you believed it would further legitimize our relationship in the eyes of my peers.”

Jim leaned his forehead against his own. “That’s not the only reason, but yes. I know I’m not the ideal for a Vulcan, and while I am not going to apologize for loving you, that doesn’t mean I can’t do my part to understand you and your culture. It’s a part of who you are, Spock, and I love it, because I love you.” He placed a gentle kiss on Spock’s lips, and Spock distantly wondered if there was anything more fascinating in the universe than the man he held in his arms. “Taluhk nash-veh k'dular.”  **_I cherish thee._ **

Spock shivered as the words ghosted across his lips. There was something indescribable about hearing the regard he knew Jim carried for him whispered in his own language. “And I love you, t’hy’la. I do not deserve a bondmate as dedicated as you.”

That caused Jim to tilt his head back so that they were eye to eye once more, a soft grin playing on his lips in the dim light of the cabin. “Spock, you deserve the universe itself, and I would give it to you if I could.”

“You already have.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? I always love it when Jim jumps to defend Spock's honor, both in fanfic and in canon. He is not afraid to fight you if you insult his t'hy'la. As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, leave me a comment and let me know!
> 
> You can find a bunch of other one-shots about these two love-sick idiots on my profile.


End file.
